


Could...have been friends...

by FrancescaFiona



Series: What The Series Never Showed You [5]
Category: True Blood (TV)
Genre: AVL, Bitching, F/F, Implied Compatibility, Nan's ex, Nan's temper, Pam's past, Pam's temper, Psychopathy and egomania, Really bad language (as expected), References to Prostitution, Vampire Authority, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancescaFiona/pseuds/FrancescaFiona
Summary: "Shit floats," drawled Pam."As do lifeboats," Nan countered coolly. "I would suggest you find one to cling on to.""Tough shit," Pam snapped. "I can swim."Prior to Pam's rather disastrous interview at Fangtasia for the AVL, she and the delightful Ms Flanagan fall out......Again.Rated M for language and...atmosphere.





	Could...have been friends...

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify a few things:
> 
> Nan's 'Suffragette slut' is her 20s girlfriend who, reading between the lines, completely broke Nan's stone heart.
> 
> Pam was a prostitute in her human life...which is why the comment that Nan makes, knowing that damn well, really offends her.
> 
> The thing Pam doesn't know about is Nora, Eric's sister by blood who is a Chancellor of the Authority like Nan is.
> 
> ...And finally I don't own the characters, nor am I trying to offend anybody.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nan Flanagan arrived fashionably late to the door of Fangtasia accompanied by her typical entourage of _busy people._

 

The ‘Face of Vampires’ herself was in a characteristically bad mood and glared at one of her assistants after he offered to fetch her a … _*ahem*_ …TruBlood from the bar.

 

 “If the night ever comes when I am desperate enough to feed here,” she said impatiently. “You can stake me.”

 

Yes, what a dump.

 

But, tonight Ms Flanagan had work to do here. Her work was waiting for her between the bar and that _God_ -awful human chew-toy, looking stroppy.

 

Nan already knew this was going to be _hard_ work.

 

“Ms Flanagan, how nice of you to drop by,” Pam drawled.

 

Nan ignored her.

 

“Well, come on!” she snapped to the producers. “Let’s get set up!”

 

She settled herself into a chair somebody had had the initiative to set down for her.

 

Pam pursed her lips.

 

Nan was head-to-toe in her human best, complete with a pair of black pointed-toe heels that pinched her feet painfully enough to ward off any dangerous desires to be pleasant to anyone non-human.

 

They were real nice shoes and Pam eyed them appreciatively.

 

Guess it was true. Pam and Nan could have been friends. 

 

 _Could_ …have been friends.

 

“Northman junior,” Nan said, motioning carelessly to a chair in front of the camera that had just appeared. “Sit.”

 

Pam complied, but _slowwwwwwly,_ making sure everyone knew how little she wanted to be shooting a promotional video for the _AVL._

 

Nan flicked her pen between her fingers impatiently.

 

“Sometime tonight would be just super, Ms de Beaufort,” she said with a sigh.

 

“Why…starlets like myself need to take their time,” Pam said, shaking her curls over her shoulder.

 

“That they do,” Nan said tightly, intent upon her phone.

 

She looked up to give Pam a tight smile and a silent ‘get a fucking move on’.

 

“So…” Pam said without interest. “What now?”

 

“Well, as discussed, my assistant here…”

 

Nan gestured vaguely to one of her minions.

 

“Will ask you some questions and you will answer them with the target audience in mind, that would be the human population.”

 

“That assistant have a name?” Pam asked.

 

Nan smiled.

 

“I should imagine so.”

 

Pam almost laughed.

 

“You put up with this every night?” she asked the assistant who looked a little apprehensive.

 

Nan threw her papers on the ground. Eight centuries of life had taught her how to make them hit the ground with the perfect angry slap.

 

“I understand you don’t want to be here,” she declared angrily. “I don’t want to be here either. So the quicker we get some kind of usable material the better. Let’s both do each other a favour.”

 

Pam continued to stare at the older woman with the perfected look of complete insolence that Nan often aimed at other people.

 

That did it.

 

“Pamela, you would do well to remember that our world is no longer as stable as the one you _young_ vampires have grown up in,” Nan said purposefully condescendingly.

 

Pam raised an eyebrow.

 

“That so?” she asked with casually feigned interest.

 

“Yes,” Nan shot back without hesitation.

 

“And whose fault is that?” Pam said with a heavy inclination towards Nan.

 

“Vampires like your maker, Eric Northman,” the older vampire snapped back. “Who somehow find it impossible to keep their fucking _fangs_ in their mouth.”

 

Pam said nothing, choosing instead to pick at the rose pink suit that Nan had sent to her in advance and strongly suggested that she wear. It was a very nice suit.

 

Fuck that bitch.

 

To Pam’s amusement, Nan looked furious at the other vampire’s lack of reaction to this, the fury she folded quickly into an inviting smile.

 

“Now,” Nan said chirpily, reaching out her hand to allow the desired clipboard to magically appear in it. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

 

 _No,_ said Pam’s sneer.

 

Fangtasia was _her_ bar, and _she_ was in charge. 

 

“Ms de Beaufort, I’m going to need you to cooperate,” Nan said sounding tightly-wound, like usual.

 

“What you _need_ , Ms _Flanagan,”_ said Pam sarcastically. “Is a tampon and a lie down.”

 

“Yes, I need a _giant_ tampon,” Nan said without missing a beat. “To stem the flow of negativity towards vampires.”

 

She smirked.

 

“And tonight, Pam, that would be you. Congratulations.”

 

“I’m your _what?”_ Pam asked, eyes flashing dangerously.

 

“I think you heard,” Nan said sweetly. “Now, myself and others at the top need this to be good, so let’s make an effort, shall we?”

 

“‘Others at the top’,” Pam quoted with a smile creeping across her face. “Well, guess it really is true that shit floats.”

 

“As do lifeboats,” Nan countered coolly. “I would suggest you find one to cling to.”

 

Pam’s eyebrows shot up. We really going to go there?

 

“Tough shit,” she spat. “I can swim.” 

 

“For how long?” Nan asked.

 

Pam opened her mouth to tell Nan to go back to hell.

 

“For how long without Eric Northman?” Nan amended, going for a slightly lower blow on second thoughts.

 

“Are you… _threatening_ him?” asked Pam, livid, fists shaking at her sides.

 

“No,” said Nan, with an almost childish pout. “Merely wondering if we need to call Eric and have him hold your hand, since you can’t manage to do this on your own.”

 

Pam said something very, very quietly.

 

“Sorry Ms de Beaufort, I didn’t quite catch that,” Nan said delicately.

 

“I said get silvered, you _cunt,”_ Pam snapped.

 

No mistaking that.

 

Now, Ms Nan Flanagan would _not_ be spoken to like that in front of her entourage.

 

She sighed, and held the wrist of her left hand tautly with that of her right which was a habit of hers. 

 

“Pamela…because of your rather…exceptional circumstances,” she said quietly. “You believe yourself to be immune to the authority, but that isn’t true.”

 

“And what circumstances are those?” asked Pam insolently, barely giving Nan her gaze.

 

“Ones that you know we can’t discuss right now,” muttered Nan through disapprovingly pursed lips in the slightly reverent voice she used to discuss _The Authority._

 

 _“Do_ I know that?” Pam smirked.

 

The smirk was removed by Nan’s expression, one of disbelief.

 

“You mean you don’t _know?_ Eric Northman’s never _told_ you?”

 

Infuriatingly, Nan Flanagan started to _laugh._

 

“Told me what?” Pam demanded as angrily as Nan had hoped.

 

The rest of the vampires present looked merely bewildered.

 

“I can’t tell you!” Nan laughed gleefully. “That’s not my secret to share.”

 

Nan caught the eye of a low-ranking Authority member in the room and they shared a look of smugness.

 

“Fuckin’ tell me!” Pam shouted.

 

“Pamela,” Nan began. “How do I say this…?”

 

Nan paused for effect. She was enjoying this.

 

“You…are the apple of your maker’s eye, nobody would dispute that...It’s only he has two eyes.”

 

She shrugged almost apologetically but with the twinkle of mirth in her eye.

 

Pam was beside herself.

 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, rising to her feet.

 

“Er…ladies?” began one of the producers nervously.

 

Both women rounded on him with identically furious expressions.

 

“What?” asked Pam defensively.

 

“Sit your ass down!” Nan shouted, as the young man paled and complied. 

 

She gave a sigh to compose herself.

 

 _“Manners,_ please,” she said impatiently to the man she had shouted at.

 

The room was _silent._

 

“What goes on between a maker and their progeny is their business,” said Nan turning back to Pam. “I wouldn’t want to interfere.”

 

But now Pam smirked. She could hit back from that one.

 

“Like you’d know,” she said.

 

Nan rocked back on her chair and leant to the producer nearest to her.

 

“We’ll try once more, then that’s it. We can’t afford to waste any more time here.”

 

Pam revelled in her victory.

 

“Touched a nerve, did I?” she asked in mock concern.

 

Again, Nan pretended Pam hadn’t spoken.

 

“Ms de Beaufort has the voice for a photograph,” said Nan to the group as if Pam weren’t present. “And a face for the radio but perhaps the general public can find her…relatable.”

 

“Fuck you!” burst Pam.

 

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Nan said charmingly. “Now…do you want the cash or not? It’s easy Pam, just close your eyes, go to your happy place, and think of the money…”

 

Nan smirked with a glint in her eye.

 

“I’m sure that’s a technique you mastered throughout your human life.”

 

“Fuck you!” Pam repeated, louder, fangs snapping downwards.

 

Nan’s guards began to advance, but she halted them.

 

“Gentlemen,” Nan said politely, turning to her guards and the production team. “Perhaps you could give Ms de Beaufort and myself some privacy? Evidently we have things to discuss.”

 

There was no movement.

 

“GEDDOUT!” Nan screamed, flickering to her feet.

 

The room cleared and Nan turned to the woman who was disrupting her schedule.

 

“Nice to see you treat your staff so nicely,” Pam snarled.

 

Nan shrugged arrogantly.

 

“They’re paid far too much anyway,” she said.

 

Pam hated her. Hated her more than most people she hated. She wracked her brains for something, _anything_ she knew about Nan that could hurt the older vampire the way that Nan had hurt Pam. 

 

And there was one thing…

 

Pam took a breath.

 

“Clearly you didn’t pay that Suffragette _slut_ of yours enough,” she said quietly. “Otherwise she might have stuck around.”

 

Nan had her fangs ready before Pam could register the movement.

 

And that was another similarity between the two of them - they just could couldn’t resist pushing…and pushing…and _pushing,_ until the other person snapped.

 

Nan had snapped.

 

Finding no cell phone or laptop or crystal vase in her hands to hurl, Nan’s eyes locked on the nearest tempting thing to break, which happened to be Pam’s face and which now looked more than a little afraid. No, that face was about to be on camera. That wouldn’t do.

 

Nan turned quickly on her heel and darted to the opposite side of the room, where she stood facing the wall, completely immobile.

 

She said nothing for a long time

 

Pam was freaked out. 

 

When Nan finally did turn around, her face had been arranged back to it’s professional smile but her eyes burned with a strange emotion Pam couldn’t identify.

 

She walked up to Pam, stopping when she was quite close.

 

“Pamela,” Nan said with perfect psychopathic calm. “Sit there. And do. The fucking. Interview.”

 

Pam obeyed.

 

Seeing this, Nan retracted her fangs daintily and clapped her hands, summoning her team back into the room.

 

The two women glared at each other from their respective positions in front of, and behind, the camera, both so similar in ways they would never admit.

 

And as their eyes locked yet again, there was a strange moment, a moment where the two of them considered each other more mildly.

 

They really could have been friends.

 _...Very_ good friends.

The best, even.

 

Nan folded herself into the chair, crossing her stockinged legs resolutely.

 

And they really _were_ lovely shoes.

 

And then the moment had passed.

 

_Insolent, spoiled brat!_

 

_Miserable old bitch!_

 

Pam straightened into her straight-backed, raised-eyebrowed indifference and Nan put her headset and her professionalism back on.

 

And nobody else in the room had had the brains or the guts to have noticed a thing.

 

“Cameras rolling?” Nan asked briskly. “Good. Now, Ms de Beaufort…can you tell us a little about your business?”

 

She eyed Pam intently.

 

“Begin with the statement ‘Fangtasia is for everyone’.”


End file.
